You Were A Pleasant Surprise
by Gone Into Oblivion
Summary: You were my inspiration, my reason for living. You danced in my light and forgave my darkness. Yet, like the spring, you went away too soon. All in all, you were a pleasant surprise. My love, will you meet me again?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer – SM owns Twilight. Gone Into Oblivion owns this plot. This story is inspired by 'Only Love is Real' by Brian Weiss.  
_

_Acknowledging –_

 _Sunflower Fran for making this readable and clear,_

 _Jdifrans1 for offering support and insight throughout._

 _A/N – Ask away any queries._

 **Chapter – 1**

 **A way that leads towards You**

 _Suffering is a gift; in it is the hidden mercy. The cure for pain is in the pain ~ Rumi_

Rumi once said, 'a wound is the place where the light enters you.' This held true for those who had the eyes to see. There was no such thing as regret. Everything was a realization to be grasped, a lesson to be learned. The demons inside people were not actually a curse. They always had something to say. They contained experiences from past, the unresolved issues which threatened to suffocate. If only people listened to them instead of listing them as 'bad' or 'good'. The past may be long forgotten or consciously remembered. Buried or alive. Recent or ancient. The demons never left people until they give it permission to do so.

Bella Swan was a beautiful woman, Carlisle noted, as she giggled at a joke he made about the past lives. He was recanting his wariness of camera flashes, and he quipped that in 1904, in America, someone had thrown a classic Kodak camera at his head, thereby killing him. She had a delightful laugh; it lit upher whole face. The reason it was a rare sight was because she had a habit of giving fake, polite smiles. It was a bit painful to watch. It reminded him of his receptionist, Lauren Mallory and his assistant, Maggie.

"I guess I shouldn't say 'you should laugh more often' because you already do. I'm assuming that you don't laugh _genuinely_ enough. When you do, though, it's a sight to behold."

She smiled. It was a little wistful, "Poetic much, doc? I guess things don't feel funny anymore."

He leaned forwardon his desk, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

She sighed, "My life has been such a mess for a long while. I'm tired all the time; nothing is interesting, let alone funny."

Now he was getting somewhere, "You don't seem asthough you get impressed easily."

She threw him a wry smile, "Or so I've been told. But what did you mean by that _genuine_ laughter thing? Does that mean me giving fake smile is that obvious?"

Smart.

"Sorry to be blunt, but yes. I wonder why you feel the need to fake a smile, though. Is it because you don't want people to become aware of your truest emotions?"

"Maybe, or because I don't have any other expression to make. People would call me a weirdo if I sit with a blank expression."

That was strange. When Lauren was asked the reason behind that annoying fake smile, she said it was because smiling wasconsidered professional. In everyuniverse through the ages, people felt more at ease whenever there was a smile involved. In all the service areas: airplanes, hospitals, restaurants, clinics …

' _Bullshit philosophy,'_ Carlisle had told her. He vividly remembered how she gaped at him like a fish. "Throwing around fake smiles at people makes them feel judged, not appreciated. I know you're naturally sassy, Lauren, not polite."

She swallowed, "But doctor, politeness is not only professional, it's kind."

"Not when you don't mean it. I think your, _'get your sweet buns over to that sofa, doc's gonna see you soon,_ ' is going to sound tentimes more effective than, ' _apologies for the delay, the doctor will attend to you shortly'_. You know what I mean?"

It worked.

He could never get enough of his clients saying, _'your receptionist is awesome!'_

In fact, Bella said she had come only because her boss and his good friend Bree Tanner had insisted. She wasn't sold on the concept of past lives. However, upon meeting the staff, she just had to talk to the doctor himself. _Innovative people were magnetic_. Carlisle had bit back a smile at Bella's statement. In his mind, innovative was just another name for originality

Maggie, on the other hand, had 'compassion' as her middle name. She too was a victim of the set standards of professionalism. She had to adopt a cool exterior so that she wouldn't seem like a mother hen. Carlisle had encouraged her to display full compassion to the fellow clients, no holds barred, as long as she wasn't coming across as nosey.

"I don't want plastics as my staff," he always professed, "I want living, breathing _people_. I want all of you to work towards being natural, rather than normal. Be discreet, but be true. Understood?"

When some of his staff members had expressed apprehension that they would sound crass, he'd said, "When you start being kind to yourself, you automatically become kind to others. You don't even have to make an effort. You'll see."

The lady in blue in front of him started snickering, "Oh look, now the doctor _himself_ is lost. What have I gotten myself into?"

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and that familiar feeling of triumph made its way to his gut. She was able to crack jokes with him. The doctor – client rapport was now established.

He got up from his comfortable black chair, clutching the client information sheet, and made his way around the desk towards her. He leaned on the desk and glanced down at her, "I don't know why you're here, Bella."

She took a deep breath and leaned against the back of her chair as if all the world's burdens were suddenly on her slender shoulders.

"I don't know where to begin, doctor. I have explained my story to many therapists and nothing good has ever come out of it. I know I probably sound dumb coming to a doctor and saying, 'this isn't gonna work', but –"

He interrupted her, "I don't want you to focus on the results or the outcome right now. Just reach out to me, say it like it is. And no, it is not dumb to express anxiety about something which has not worked in the past."

"Okay."

"Now start off from the beginning. It's just you and me, here. Just Carlisle and Bella. Neither the mean lady named Judgement nor the deceiving one named Anticipation are allowed."

Bella laughed loudly.

The doctor leaning against the desk before her was a killer combo; forty parts wisdom, thirty parts humour and thirty parts confidence. All in all, a full package; genius.

"All right, all right. I'll start.

"I'm not sure if this is true, but the therapists in the past have told me that this has been one of the 'stimuli' for my depression. Before I begin, Carlisle, can you explain to me the meaning of stimulus? I always forget what it is."

He smiled down at her, "A dog knows that when it poops in the bedroom, its master will get annoyed, so it doesn't. In this case, the dog's poop is the stimulus for the master's angry response. Or, the master's angry reaction is the stimulus for the dog's action for pooping inthe right place."

Bella stared at him for five whole seconds. Then a huge wave of mirth hit her, and she doubled over. She squeezed her eyes shut, moisture oozing from the corner. Carlisle was grinning too.

"I – oh, I forgot the number of t - times _poop_ came up in that sentence!" She shrieked between the delighted peals.

He chuckled, "My lame sense of humour is my only asset, dear. Do note that it makes the ladies swoon."

"HA! Swoon because of laughter." She slowly straightened up, breathing heavily. Creases of laughter now adorned the corners of her mouth, and her brown eyes had shed that dull look. She had never looked more striking.

She wiped her eyes with the tissue he'd handed her. "You have such a way with words, Carlisle."

"Thank you, Bella."

"Now let me begin, and no more jokes!"

 _From I – don't – know – if – coming – here – is – useful to giving him orders to shut it so that she could speak?_ This was progress.

His tongue was tempted to say, ' _Scout's honour!'_ But he held it. Case study was supposed to be a serious business.

"When I was small, I had parents." She began.

He gaped at her.

"What? I haven't even begun yet."

He wiped that expression off his face, "It's nothing. Please go on. Tell me everything about yourself."

And so she began **.**

"We were a family of five. I have an elder brother named Emmett McCarty Swan. He's the coolest, generous, most awesome brother anyone could ever ask for. He's really into sports. Currently, he's an acclaimed journalist and owns a golf course. Cool, right?"

Carlisle smiled at her.

"Then, we have me. I just turned twenty-four this year, and I have a love for alliterations. Do or Die, Now or Never, Dates and Daffodils, ya know?"

 _What a strange detail to share_.

"Moving on to the youngest child of the Swan family…"

 _That was it about her?_

"It is Jasper Hale Swan. He's been on this earth for twenty-one years. He's studying Sociology for a future and delivering pizzas for a living. He's got this quiet and icy exterior which adds to his so-called 'brooding' looks." She made air quotations and rolled her eyes, "which the girls swoon over, but actually he's just really lame. If you look at his hairstyle, you'll know what I'm talking about. Also, he has this gross way of eating pizza. He adds so much of ketchup that the whole slice turns red. Lame, like I said." A slight glimmer in her eyes showed this detail amused her. "But he's been a lot closer to me than Emmett during the past months. He frequently visits me and shares everything with me."

"Both of you sound pretty close." He had observed that she talked of her youngest brother much more fondly than Emmett, the elder one.

She smiled. "We are."

"Don't you meet Emmett frequently?" He had to ask her. She looked a little bothered whenever she talked of him.

She sighed, drumming her fingers on the table, "Don't get me wrong, Carlisle. I love that guy. He's the biggest ball of mush and romance, despite his bit—too - ripped body and kinda macho looks. His love for football never interfered with his love for cotton candy." She snickered suddenly as if remembering something.

It was a happy memory.

"That golden, romantic heart of his attracted love at a young age. He met Rosalie when he was nineteen and jobless and is now her proud spouse. It feels unbelievable. Your own brother, who's made mud pies with you, is now married! At twenty-eight! It is so crazy." She smiled sadly, "He'sliving proof of the fact that time flies too fast. Whenever I see him, I feel nostalgia. He used to make me laugh a lot. I miss my brother."

Carlisle reached out to grasp her shoulder.

"I have no problem with Rosalie either." She said after a pause. "She's a really cool woman who has never made me feel unwelcome. She owns a tattoo parlour, and her art almost convinces me to get a tattoo."

"Almost?" he asked, bemused.

"What will happen if I get bored with one? They're gonna get etched on my skin till I'm a skeleton, you know."

He chuckled, "Valid."

This girl really was something.

She blushed, "I know I'm full of shit."

"You're not, Bella. Tattoos can be tedious."

Her eyes lit up, "Alliteration!"

"Only for you. Now continue."

"Right. Oh, I forgot where we were."

"You feeling reluctance to be more intimate with them, no pun intended, even though they have never made you feel unwelcome."

"Whoa, you summed it up. That's, uh, so true. But you _know_ everyone feels that way when they're with any couple, right? We feel as if we're interrupting their privacy."

"But he's your _brother_ , Bella, and she's your sister in law. Let me tell you, couples don't make love or French kiss all the time. Imagine how you would feel if Jasper stops hanging out with you just because you have one more person to cherish."

"I – uh – never thought of it this way." she looked staggered, "I'd probably be heartbroken."

"Exactly." He told her in a gentle tone, "What you're doing is not fair to Emmett."

"All right!" she sighed and made a grand gesture of leaning back intothe black chair. Carlisle's legs felt numb from being in a same position for so long, so he made his way back to his place and sat down. He resisted the urge to moan because of relief.

"You have nice chairs, doc, so soft."

"I agree. Maggie selected them."

He glanced at the client – information sheet. Her key symptoms included, 'Anxiety, depression, grief, sleep disturbance'. He looked at her. She did have shadows under her eyes. As he was noticing her, she yawned widely, covering her mouth only when the yawn was over. Looking at the amused doctor, she mumbled a ' _sorry'._

"No problem."

"So as I was saying, I think you're right about me being unfair. But there is one more reason **to** me ignoring him."

"What is it?"

"I don't want his pink life to be marred with my charcoal shades."

He blinked. "I'm afraid you lost me."

"Pink represents good health," she told him with a smirk, "and charcoal is well, black."

"Oh..."

"Yes. I have so many mental and emotional problems." She started counting on her finger passionately, "I can't sleep properly. I'm not able to concentrate on work. Ugh, the _thought_ of work makes my stomach turn. I keep having nightmares. I feel like crying all the time, and when I don't, I feel numb. A therapist once told me that thefeeling numb is a sign of depression, so depressed is what I am."

"Oh, Bella," Carlisle said sympathetically, "Have you found out the causes?"

"There is only one cause." She said coldly, "Love."

His brow wrinkled, "Can you please elaborate?"

"My love for my mother is one cause. Ever since she died, I've not been able to get _one_ proper sleep."

"I'm so sorry, Bella." He whispered, "You never mentioned her. Tell me about her."

"Renee Swan was nothing short of an angel." She reminisced, a smile gracing her lips and her eyes getting a faraway look, "She had blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. Her hundred-watt grin used to make anyone's day. That silly grin would cheer any person in the world. She was my rock star, my favourite person in the world. She once said her fondest memory was me painting her nails. Boy, did I love painting her nails. I rested my chin on my knees, grabbed her hands, and slid thebrightly coloured brush on her smooth nails. I did it for hours, while she patiently watched or slept.

"Jasper and Emmett loved her too, obviously, but I believed that I loved her best. I was literally her tail. I don't know how she tolerated me," she laughed.

"She was a mom, Bella," Carlisle told her tenderly, adding 'low self - esteem' to the list. _"I know it sounds dumb. I know I'm full of shit. I don't know how my mother tolerated me,"_ echoed in his brain. She felt guilty expressing who she was, though she did express it. It meant something; some event had triggered this kind of behaviour. He wondered what the 'stimuli' was.

"Charlie Swan, on the other hand, was an abusive man. He always fought with my mom and yelled all the time. He yelled at my brothers too. At first my mom cried a lot, frequently asking me if her love was inadequate. Once, I told her I didn't know what love was. She said love was devotion. Love was never giving up on anyone or anything.

"She started developing schizophrenia, as Emmett tells me now. Her main symptom was paranoia. I faintly remember her closing all the windows of the house, saying someone was out to kill her. I was pissing my pants hearing this. I don't know the other symptoms, but Emmett tells me that once she accused him of being a 'killer' clown. His feelings were extremely hurt.

"My father divorced her, calling her a 'mad woman'. He didn't want us, his kids, at all. I don't know what his problem was. We didn't want him, either. Mom was more than happy to manage her three kids singlehandedly. At first, all four of us, Emmett, Mom, little Jasper and I lived in a small house at the end of the town. She took up a job as a nursery teacher and this fed us. I barely recall how living there felt like, but Em describes it as peaceful because there was no more yelling.

"After a while, we had to get separated from her. I think it was night, I was sleeping. There was some commotion, but I didn't stir from my sleep. When I cracked my eyes open the next day, I was at Charlie's. I lived there until I was a teenager. I cried all the time. Charlie hadn't changed. He brainwashed us into thinking that Renee didn't want us anymore. The boys agreed, and started hating Renee. To them, she was a traitor, promising us peace and then leaving us back to rot."

"Did you believe Charlie?" Carlisle asked softly.

"Not at all. I couldn't believe Mom would abandon us. I used to think Charlie was behind Renee's abduction. She wasn't abducted, though. Neither my brothers' perception nor mine were correct. Charlie was just a damned liar, messing with the tender minds of his children and breaking their hearts." She said bitterly.

"Where _was_ your mother, then?"

"Ah, yes. Her call came on the landline one day. I started crying as soon as I heard her voice. I asked her why she abandoned us. I don't know what she said. I think she was soothing me. I was crying a lot. I told her I wanted to live with her again. I also told her that Em hated her. I realize it now that it must have broken her heart. But that woman firmly told me, despite the hurt she was feeling, that she would come and visit us soon."

"But where was she?" he was getting impatient.

"I'm getting to that. That night, during dinner, Charlie came home, drunk as usual. I think I looked a little too happy, not morose the way I typically did. He asked me why I was acting like a happy sprite. Emmett too looked at me curiously. I blurted out everything, quite smugly. I told them she would make everything right soon as she was about to pay us a visit. At first, Charlie was enraged. He said he would turn the world upside down before that 'mad woman' sets her foot in his house again. He yelled a lot that night. At first, Em agreed. He said he didn't want to see her face. I started crying, angry that they were saying all that about my mom." Using the word LIKE instead of as if or as though is not a good thing to do. It is incorrect, and unless the character would actually speak that way, it should be corrected. This Bella seems educated.

"What happened then?"

"In a fit of rage, I remember running over to where Charlie's gun was kept, leaning on my tiptoes to pull it out, carrying it and knocking it on his head. I remember yelling, "If you _ever_ call my mom a madwoman again, I'll hit you and hit you until you _die_!" He blacked out.

"I don't know what happened to that fool after that. Em rushed him to the hospital, I think. I just remember that I met Renee the next day. She was snivelling as she explained that she's been very sick and had to go so that she would get better soon. She also said that she lived in the same house with a friend now, and if we wanted, we could visit her anytime.

"That was the happiest day of my life. Em wept a lot that day, too, hugging her. She continually apologized to us, even though her fault was none. She baked us brownies and listened to our chatter. I was jealous that Jasper was sleeping in her lap the whole time.

"We met her frequently after that, and Em was back to normal. He cracked jokes, made me and Jasper play football, took us, including Mom, to amusement parks and ate a lot of cotton candy. Charlie's involvement in our lives was minimal after that. I suspected he was a little afraid of me."

Bella had fire in her. It was evident. She wasn't the ' _suffer in silence'_ type. That woman had a meter inside her. The moment the limit wascrossed, she was sure to react powerfully and try with everything in her soul to end the obstacles. That's why she was here now. Her limit had been crossed a long while back. All these issues - which undoubtedly had made her stronger – had severely affected her waking life. The first step towards healing was to ask for help from the Universe. The moment you realize that you need help, you automatically start making an effort to better yourself. The statement, _'The cosmos helps those who help themselves'_ was truer than anyone could imagine.

Carlisle constrained his urge to beam at Bella. He was proud of her, even though he had just met her this morning. Her answers lied within, as did every answer in this world. He just had to bring it to the surface, to her conscious mind. He'd helped thousands of people. He would guide her too.

The corner of Bella's mouth turned down as sadness passed her eyes.

"The birds had to fly one day. Em went away first, followed by me. And I took Jasper."

"What happened to your parents?"

"I wanted Renee to come with me, but she said she couldn't leave the place where she had lived all her life. That was valid enough at the time, but she later told me on the phone that she didn't want to disrupt our careers. My so-called _father_ died drinking."

"Whoa. Didn't that affect you, Bella?" he was surprised by the nonchalance in her tone.

"Not really," she said, flipping her hair behind her back, "His funeral had only us, and a few cops."

"I see."

"I hope you understand me, Carlisle. He'd abused us so much that during the time of his death, I could only think, 'good riddance'. His abuse had been one of the stimuli for my depression, as the therapists toldme."

"Along with love, as you say."

"Yes. Love is the reason for every bad thing that has happened to me."

"How is that true?"

"I expected love from my father. I had several relationships where my heart was broken. Do you know why I **looked** for relationships?"

"Because of love?"

She sniffed, "Since I was a kid, I loved watching Disney movies. As I grew, I read a lot of romantic novels, and they always portrayed the same thing. Love had healed two damaged souls. Even now, in almost every spiritual book, it's written that love has the power to cure everything. Love is miraculous. I have seen Em change for better ever since he's fallen for Rosalie. He has grown optimistic, full of hope. I wanted to see for myself, experience the healing powers of love.

"After my first relationship, I was devastated. Love was not all that I've read in books or seen in movies. After the second one, I abandoned the fantastical ideas of finding any kind of romantic love. That nonsense was reserved only for books. I limited my aspirations. Now, I just wanted companionship. I just searched for someone who made me feel good. Was that too much to ask?

"Have you had any success?"

"I'm afraid I'd have to answer that in the negative. You see, the web of love works this way…First; you want it in its full glory. Then, you are happy to settle for less. And then, after that, you just want to settle for someone to avoid loneliness. It's wrong, but it's true. Clichéd as it may sound, love is like a drug. It's toxic, but you crave it. It works for only some of the people, yet when others see them, he happy ones, they all start searching."

"But you also blamed the love for your mother. Why is that?"

Bitter experiences had made this girl pessimistic.

"You know, doctor, I frequently called her and told her all about my shit relationships. When she realized how depressed it was making me, she used to say, _'Bella, you have given the reigns of your happiness to the other person for too long. That is why your happiness is so short lived. If the happiness comes from within, then usually it's permanent'_.

"I wish I could be happy from within, but love had made me incapable of that. If my mom hadn't loved my dad, I believe she would have been happier. _My_ life would have been better. It was _she_ who taught me love was devotion, love was never giving up. I became the clingy type, hoping till the last moment that everything would be fine, only to be heartbroken.

"One day she called me to say that she'd found love. I was baffled. Was she having a schizophrenic attack again? She could feel my disbelief from across the phone, and she urged me to visit her so that she could tell me where love was. She sounded ecstatic. I agreed, amused **,** thinking that maybe, she'd found herself a boyfriend. Since she was so happy, I was sure that this time it was someone who didn't drink, stink like a pig and wasn't abusive. That in itself would have been must be a huge achievement for her…"

She swallowed suddenly and clenched her fists, which were resting onthe table, trying to look rough. Her eyes werefilled with unshed tears.

"She died four days after that call, hit by a truck."

"Shit."

This left his mouth before he could stop himself.

She half smiled though it was void of humour. Therefore, her grief began to evolve into a depression with increasingly significant symptoms. Bella was having problems sleeping at night. She had difficulty falling asleep and she would awaken much too early in the morning, unable to fall back to sleep.She lost interest in food and began losing weight. She had a noticeable lack of energy. She lost enthusiasm for relationships, and her ability to concentrate became increasingly impaired.

Before her mother's death, Bella's anxiety consisted mainly of job stresses, such as deadlines and difficult decisions. She was also anxious at times about her relationships, with how she should act and what her responses should be. Her anxiety levels increased dramatically after the death of her mother. She had lost her daily confidante and advisor, her closest friend. She had lost her primary source of guidance and support. She felt disoriented, alone, adrift.

This was bound to get the attention of her boss, Bree Tanner, so she recommended Carlisle's name to her. Bree had read the books written by him and attended some lectures in which he talked of people in meditative states having encounters with loved ones. Bree always fired keen and clever questions. She'd become a good friend of his. Bella's heart gave the final thump of hope after listening to all of this and she came to him after setting an appointment. She hoped for some type of reunion or contact with her mother. Her heartache needed some balm to ease the constant pain.

Carlisle smiled compassionately at her, quoting his favourite saying by Jack E Leonard, _"'There is nothing wrong with you that a regression therapy can't cure.' "_

He gave her a tape to listen to at home so that her state of mind could relax. Her treatmentwould begin at the next session.

He hugged her and watched her leave.

Then he thought …

 _Your problem is not love, but_ _the lack_ _of love. No one can provide you with that, except for yourself._


	2. Chapter 2

_Big hugs to Sunflower Fran and Jdifrans 1 for being awesome. I own all mistakes._

 **Chapter – 2  
**

**The lost Passion**

 _There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled. There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled. You feel it, don't you? ~ Rumi_

Was this world one, big coincidence? Was the position of our planet – exact distance, right temperature – an accident? Was the presence of the first form of life an _accident_? Was it a chance event that a nameless human rubbed two rocks together, not knowing what he was doing, and yet, a blazing light erupted. Fire? Was it a mere happenstance that another nameless face discovered a wheel that would ease the burden of what vulnerable shoulders had to carry for years to come?

The water resource could be used for irrigation, which in turn formed the base for millions of civilizations to colonize. The animal skin could be used to cover the fragile human skin. The wood from the trees and the boulders from the dirt could be useful tools to protect the human head, and therefore, their lives.

Did things lay dormant, waiting for the eyes to notice there uses? Probably yes. Why did all of a sudden someone, somewhere decide that things could be used in a different way? Some people called it a necessity; other people called it a twist of fate.

Was it a twist of fate that individuals were born into a particular family? That was extremely random. How did friendships happen? Did they meet a random human being in their class, or on the bus, and they were like, _let's be friends for life_! No? Carlisle met Esme in detention in the sixth grade. He always wondered what his life would be like if he hadn't shown attitude to his teacher back then, or if Esme hadn't pulled her bench mate's hair. But he needn't worry, the meet was already decided. He _had_ to meet her that day, even if the world was turning upside down.

It was written.

It was written by Carlisle and Esme themselves.

After seeing what he had seen throughout his life, he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that souls knew each other long before they had met. Some of the _meets_ were decided by the individuals themselves, some of them were a continuation from the past lives. He had a patient named Tanya, who was in an abusive relationship with Aro, her boyfriend. After getting regressed, she found out that Aro was her abusive father in one of her past lives. It was ancient Romania, and he had come back to continue the torture on her until she spoke up. It was a bewildering, touching moment for her. She now lived happily in California with her two dogs. The spare key now lay safely beneath the doormat and not with Aro.

Regression therapy was one way to be aware of the fact that in this world or in any other world, coincidence was an illusion. Everything was synchronized, carefully put in order for souls, in any form, to take lessons and progress towards healing.

Still, this seemed like a bunch of fluff to many people. They believed that they were born, lived and rotted after death. Carlisle had nothing against these individuals who held tightly to this belief. Whatever floated their boat, it didn't matter.

Troubled people who'd come to Carlisle believed in the concept of past lives. They believed they had lived before. After the regression, they knew they were immortal, and they would return again, maybe not on this earth, maybe on someone else's earth. The concept of _'if you believe in reincarnation you won't enjoy the present'_ was wrong. The opposite was true; those who knew they'd live again tried their hardest to make their current one work, so that the future would be impacted in a positive way.

Edward Masen, who sat in front of Carlisle, was one of those who thought regression therapy was a nonsense. His first words to Carlisle were, "I'm not sure if it's gonna work. I feel like I don't even have a past life."

"Why would you say that?" Carlisle was amused by his attempt to politeness. He knew Edward straight out wanted to say all of this was bullshit. He'd come to Carlisle as a last resort. He'd listed _lack of passion_ as the main problem on his client information sheet.

"I haven't got any fears, 'psychic' flashes or unusual dreams, you know." He explained.

"It's not necessary that signals you get are always bold and life altering. They may be subtle, but they're ever present."

He cocked his head to a side. "What do you mean by that?"

"If you've ear troubles you, for instance, that could have stemmed from your past life where you may have drowned." Carlisle shrugged.

Edward stared at him for five whole seconds. Then he muttered, "Right." with a snort.

Carlisle could see Edward wanted to counter, so he smiled at him, "I see you don't believe much in all this. How come you're here, then?"

"I mean no disrespect, Carlisle."

"Of course not, none taken."

"Actually, it was one big coincidence. A month ago, I was aimlessly driving; it was a windy day, the onset of the winter. The fall leaves were flying around everywhere and people were heading towards home. Workers, parents with their children from the park, employees returning from offices, you know. It had gotten quite chilly and dusk was fast approaching. All of a sudden this pamphlet advertising your clinic slapped itself on my windshield. It was about finding passion and getting rid of overthinking. It spoke to me so much that I _had_ to fix an appointment."

It never ceased to amaze Carlisle at how the Universe was always speaking to people, sending little messages and causing serendipities, reminding them to stop and look around, to believe in something else, something more.

Carl Jung had an fascinating name for these meaningful coincidences. _Synchronicity_. Synchronicity, according to him, was the Universe telling folks, _'warmer, you're getting warmer…'_

Carlisle leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands, regarding Edward with interest. He realized Edward was here for a reason. "You believe your being here is a coincidence?"

"A big one, yes." He said with a nod, "I hope to find my answers here."

Well, if Edward thought it was a coincidence, so be it. What both men in the room didn't know was that the biggest co incidence Edward's life was about to happen.

Passion wasn't something sold in the markets. It was present _inside_ the human body, distinct from all the biological systems, within the heart. Passion surpassed the limited physical world. When a soul entered a body in the form of breath taken by the mother, and left the body after the last breath was released, it was aware of what it ached for. Passion was to be _realized_ , not searched for.

So how passion could be realized? Why were so many people unable to 'find' their passion? Many psychologists, therapists, life coaches, or even wannabe counselors – friends, family, etc. – gave one answer. _Think about it. Think hard. Sit and ponder the pros and cons and then you'll know_.

Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

Clarity came from Engagement, _not_ thought. If a person wanted clarity on why they were born, their purpose, their _passion_ , then sitting and thinking about it would only confuse and muddle up the thoughts. Exposure was the key.

Exposing one's self didn't mean getting enrolled in guitar classes, swimming classes, knitting, cooking, and writing or basketball classes. If an individual indulged in it, no problem. But it wasn't the precise way to pinpoint the passion. In truth, it exhausted or even depressed many people. The true way of realizing your passion was to be passionate about _anything_ and _everything_ , at least in the beginning. Be it doing the dishes, or dusting the book case or walking to the bus stand...the whole soul, whole _being_ should be devoted into the task, as if nothing existed in the universe other than peeling potatoes while humming an oldie.

Practicing this trait was quite effortless. It didn't require much energy except indulging in the task which you're doing. It made an individual naturally passionate. It didn't 'use up' or 'exhaust' the energies. It _filled_ one with zeal, liveliness, and huge amounts of sexiness.

 _Your heart can't see, yet it senses. When you become naturally passionate, your heart will sense for what it beats for_.

The pamphlet, which Edward talked about, was created by the queen of sass, Lauren.

It said,

 **HEY YOU! HOLLER YOUR PASSION AND ABANDON THAT OVERTHINKING!**

 **COZ PASSION IS A BETTER PET THAN THE OVERTHINKER!**

THINK LESS, FEEL MORE!

HOW? FOCUS ON THE SIP OF THAT MORNING COFFEE YOU DRINK!

FEEL HOW THE FLAVOR BURSTS IN YOUR MOUTH, TRAVELS DOWN YOUR THROAT LEAVING A SWEET AFTERTASTE!

YUMMMMMMY!

IF YOU DON'T ENJOY THAT CUP OF COFFEE, YOU'LL DIE!

YIKES! SMELL BULLSHIT?

ABSOLUTELY NOT! IF YOU DON'T INDULGE IN SAVOURING THAT DAMN COFFEE, THAT MOMENT WILL BE GONE! FOREVER! THAT PARTICULAR DAY, HOUR, MINUTE, SECOND IS NEVER GONNA COME BACK.

IF YOU REVELED IN DRINKING THE COFFEE, YOU'LL REMEMBER AT LEAST ONE MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE ON YOUR DEATH BED WHEN YOU JUST _GAVE_ INTO THE FEELINGS, TO THE LUXURY OF _NOT_ THINKING.

YOU'LL REMEMBER THAT ONE MOMENT OF _PASSION_!

TO ACHIEVE THE EXTRAORDINARY, FIRST MASTER IN THE ORDINARY!

YOUR OVERTHINKING WILL WHIMPER AWAY – _LOSER!_ – AND PASSION WILL COME RUNNING INTO YOUR ARMS. DAMN, WHAT A PICTURE.

JACOB NORDBY GUY SAID IT WELL – _We wait, STRIVING for moments of high magic to INSPIRE us, but life is a banquet of COMMON ENCHANTMENT, waiting for our alchemist's EYES to notice_.

Carlisle was aware that people such as Edward had already been lectured to by his highly expecting – no puns – parents. They were misguided by friends, relatives, motivational speakers, etc. They yearned to find answers, drowning in despondency when they couldn't find any.

Edward was a handsome man of twenty-eight, from a rich Norwegian home. His pale complexion spoke volumes of the snow covered Laplands and sparkly white trees. His laugh was dry, sarcastic, mostly a smirk. He had a crass way of putting things, but somehow it sounded classy coming out of his mouth. He was taller than Carlisle, with bronze hair thoroughly tosseled. It looked good, though. He possessed a lazy stance though he was quite attentive. Whenever someone spoke or acted in a way that interested him, all his attention was focussed on that person. Despite his serious, quietly brooding good looks, the amused tilt of his lips told a different story. As a child, he must have laughed a lot, but external circumstances must have compelled him to master the laughter into a mysterious smile.

He'd listed _guilt_ , _embarrassment_ , _fear of failure_ , _uncertainty, indecisiveness_ , _lack of vision_ , _ass kissing_ as the symptoms.

"Ass kissing, why?"

Edward had mostly blamed the appreciation by his parents for the lack of passion. They bragged about him everywhere whenever he excelled in any chosen field and they acted _hugely_ disappointed in him if he refused to do anything they wished for. The tender heart of a child got used by the dangerous pattern of people pleasing, or 'ass kissing' as he put it.

"I got happy as fuck whenever I was praised, and whatever I did was centered mostly on people's reactions. Passion took a backseat in my life." The use of cuss words with Carlisle was the symbol of doctor – client rapport forming, "I'm mostly perfect at what I do, and you know the reasons now. But I don't feel satisfied, let alone happy by doing those things."

Edward was a very perceptive man, who knew the intricacies of the human all too mind well. Carlisle was impressed.

After a wistful smile, he said, "I've seen blind kids painting. I've seen the mentally impaired volunteering for the needy. From what I sense in them, I know that passion doesn't need eyes to see or even a sane mind to think. I've got both, yet I'm unable to find mine."

He released a big gust of air, "I _want_ …to feel something."

It was quiet in the room for a moment.

The doctor was thoughtful. It was clear that even after reading that advice on the pamphlet he wasn't following it or he wouldn't be here. Aware as Edward was, he lacked initiative and perseverance. These two were the seeds of passion.

"We'll see what we make of you, Edward." he finally said, "There is nothing wrong with you that a past life regression therapy can't cure."

~o ~

The familiar compelling music reverberated throughout the room. The harmony had a mysterious aura, which soothed and pulled the listener into a trance-like state. Edward lay on the flexible couch. The top buttons of his shirt were undone; cuffs folded and jacket resting on the back of the sofa. He was breathing deeply and the whites of his eyes were visible. His eyeballs moved beneath the lids; a clear indication that he was seeing something. The recorder rested on the table next to the couch.

Carlisle, who was seated in a chair beside Edward, leaned towards him.

"Open the door; imagine a beautiful garden over there." Carlisle's gentle voice guided him through the unknown world. Unknown, yet self-created. He usually used two elements for the journey into the past; a door or a staircase. In this case, he'd used the door.

"Do you see the garden, Edward?"

"Yes, I do." he whispered.

"Use your imagination. Imagine there are hundreds of flowers right there, like roses, lilacs, daisies, lilies. There are evergreen trees too."

He got quiet for a while, letting Edward swim in the imagination. The room felt chilly, the music at its alluring best.

"Now," Carlisle murmured, "Rest beneath a tree. I want you to rest comfortably."

Again, he didn't ask for an answer. Edward's lids were fluttering.

"You're resting now. Imagine your stress, your worries, and your burdens leaving. Every pressure that you've felt till this date is going away. You're feeling so wonderfully light."

"It's…grb…"

"What is it?"

"It feels so great." He sighed with contentment.

"I know. Allow yourself to feel insubstantial."

Edward was breathing very deeply now. Before he could fall asleep, Carlisle commanded,

"Now, Edward, as I count down from ten to one, you'll slip into a deeper state of relaxation. As soon as I say one, you'll remember everything."

"Mmmmm…"

"Ten, you're slipping deeper, getting rid of all your worries. Don't think, just feel.

"Nine, you're floating in the air. Why won't you? You're so lightweight now that you can float.

"Eight, you're going back through time. You remember your college life and school life."

Edward's eyeballs were moving rapidly now. He frowned a little.

"Seven, you're a child now. The laughter, the cries, your parents chasing you….everything echoes. You can _see_ everything.

His head cocked to a side. A tilt of the corner of his mouth indicated that his childhood was a pleasant one, as it was supposed to be.

"Yes." A faint whisper…

"Six, you can see an infant Edward from above…" a laugh interrupted him. Edward exclaimed, "I'm in my father's lap! I can see me! I've curly hair."

Carlisle was in shock. He hadn't asked him to describe the visualization yet. This meant the regression was going successfully.

"Mom is pulling my cheek. It irritates me. I'm whining." A sigh, "I feel so happy seeing me."

"Yes, you do." Carlisle crooned. "Let's go back a bit more. As I count from five to one, you'll go even back.

"Five, you're a baby, loved and adored. Your mother is rocking you in the crib. Feel the movements."

"It feels..." he paused.

"It feels?"

"I'm feeling amazing."

"As you should." He crooned.

"Four, imagine yourself in your mother's womb.

"Three, it's dark and safe in there. Your body is floating, feeling the love and the adoration."

"Yes," he spoke, sounding a little awed, "I can hear everything. Mom is saying something."

"What is it? Can you hear clearly?"

His brow furrowed, "She's saying…she's saying, 'I love you, little Anthony.'"

"Who's Anthony?"

A brilliant smile, "My father...she hasn't decided a name for me yet."

"Good, you're doing very well. We'll go beyond this life now. Are you ready?"

A firm _yes_ was the answer.

"Two, you're going back rapidly now, leaving this life, this body. You're a soul now, but you're _you_. You'll go back to the life which has the most impact on this one.

"One, you've reached."

Edward didn't answer in affirmative. Maybe he hadn't reached yet. That was possible, but he was doing so well! Carlisle got a bit anxious. After so many years of practice, things like these still managed to make him nervous. He swallowed and asked,

"What do you see, Edward?"

Still no answer, but was it possible that that there was an awed expression on his face? Maybe he _was_ seeing something.

"Concentrate on any one thing over there." He commanded, "What do you see?"

"I see _her_ …"


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you for the heart - warming response! Sunflower Fran and Jdifrans 1, this wouldn't have been possible without both of you. I own all mistakes._

 **Chapter – 3**

 **Have I found you?**

 _An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet; regardless of time, place, and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break ~ Ancient Chinese Proverb_

Edward had slipped pretty fast into a deep hypnotic state. He'd first remembered the days from his college life, followed by his carefree childhood and infancy. He'd also experienced the wonder of being inside his mother's womb, a feeling not at all common. What baffled Carlisle was that he'd mumbled something related to 'her' in a trance state. Who was this mysterious _her_? Was she someone from this lifetime, his mother, some friend or an ex - girlfriend? The doctor obviously thought she was someone he knew, and that the wonder in his tone was understandable. Even Carlisle was shocked the first time he saw his aunt in his prior lifetime as his nurse.

"Who's 'her'?" he wanted to know.

Edward's brow furrowed, "I don't know."

He didn't know? Well, whoever this 'her' was, she was supposed to be important; that's why he was seeing her.

It was quite common that clients somehow weren't able to remember their ages, the places where they'd resided or even their names. Carlisle applied the classic technique on them so that they could remember the important details.

"As I count down from three to one, her relation to you in your present life will pop into your consciousness. Three, two, one. Now, Edward, who is she?"

He keenly observed Edward's fingers twitching as if wanting to grasp something.

"I don't know!" he was frustrated, "I don't know who she is!"

Scratch that.

This seemed to bother him so much. Carlisle realized if he forced Edward anymore, he might be jolted and awaken from the trance.

"That's okay." Sighing, he said, "Why has she captured your attention?"

Now he smiled, just a slight twitch of his lips as if something had pleased him.

 _She's my best friend. She works in a speakeasy._

"Speakeasy…you mean a bar?"

 _Yes_.

"What year is it?"

 _It's 1920._

Ah, the Roaring Twenties.

 _Bars are illegal, but some folks still open them late at night. It's a hub of shady people; criminals, hitmen, whores, and spies. A place of dealings and leisure, it attracts many crooks._

"What are you doing there?"

 _I've just walked down a street_ _with_ __ _speakeasies and movie theatres on either side. The scandalous 'Why Change Your Wife' is on tonight. The bulbs are flickering around the banner. I walk past it towards the one where she works. I can see the people drinking as I peer in from one of the huge windows. The overwhelming smell of cigar hits my face as I open the door, and the moment I enter, she raises her eyes from the drink she's making. Her gaze wanders through the crowd, a little lost until it meets mine. I smirk at her and she grins. This has been going on for a year. We're so attuned to each other._

 _I saunter towards her, ignoring the lady seated on the right who's uncrossed her legs and is looking at me. She is running her hand over her chest in a provocative way. I fight back a shudder._

"What is your friend doing in that place? Can you remember her name?"

 _They call her Cathy. She works there, behind that counter. As soon as I seat myself, she asks, "The Bronx, again?"_

 _No, I shake my head. I wasn't going to drink today. I just intended to watch her._

" _Lisa will be delighted," She whispers._

 _I say nothing._

"Who's Lisa?"

 _Lisa is my deceased wife. She committed suicide when I was in the war. She didn't want me to go; she'd begged me not to. I'd reasoned that I was going for her so that she could live in peace._

"Who's Lisa from your current life?"

A pause.

 _She's my father from this life! She's Anthony Masen!_

"Very well," Carlisle said, "Now move on. What's happening?"

" _You have a good following here," she mutters as she shakes the bottle. Her chest jiggles and I swallow and try not to look. "The moment you enter the women look as if they'll pounce on you."_

 _She's probably referring to the lady who just tried to beckon me to her. I don't care about them. I want to tease her, though._

" _Why wouldn't they? I'm a handsome man after all."_

 _She fixes me with a steely glare, like a tigress. "Humble should be your middle name, sir," Arrogance in not one of the traits she admires._

 _I wink, "Kitten should be yours."_

" _This quip is getting out-dated." She rolls her eyes at me._

 _There are shadows beneath her eyes and I suspect she hasn't slept well. I scan her profile. She's got a tired, exhausted look about her. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she grins at a man who's just tipped her well. When he goes away, she turns to me._

" _What, are you going to sit and stare all night long?"_

 _Her question is obvious. She's unsettled at my out of routine habit. In my head, I curse myself for all those times I'd drank dead in her company. Her presence alone had always made me strangely intoxicated. Slightly flustered by this revelation, I would drink. Denial Land was a safe little place to be. Only after a while did I realize that indulging in her company was more precious than any damn thing in this world. She's a little poetry that I love reading again and again._

"Edward, do you love her?"

 _I don't know what exactly love is. I'm only aware that with her, I feel as though living is worth something. I'm worth something._

"So, have you ever felt like you were _not_ worth something?"

 _Throughout my life, I've felt this way. Feelings of worthlessness are usually caused by lack of control over one's life. I'd never controlled mine. Marrying Lisa wasn't my decision. Leaving for war wasn't my choice. My uncle took all those for me. I never made an effort to break the chains. Why would I? Most people don't want to be free. The bondage is safe. The cage feels like home. Who wants to fly? There's always a risk of falling. Freedom is scary._

"Your uncle…can you recognize him from your current life?"

 _It's…it's my mother, Elizabeth Masen!_

Well, that explained a lot of things.

 _My uncle had coerced me into becoming a soldier. Apparently, killing a bunch of strange men over some piece of land was the perfect idea of fulfillment for him. Lisa, on the other hand, sought security more than social status. She wanted me to do some clerical job. Both of them reasoned their causes, not sparing a darned thought about what I wanted. The amusing thing was even I didn't consider me. I decided that fighting in the war benefitted both the parties despite the resentment from my wife. I was going so that women like her could live below a free sky. I presumed this decision to be beneficial to everyone._

A broken whisper,

 _Lisa killed herself._

 _She killed herself because of me._

Carlisle considered asking Edward if he wanted to come back if the visuals were too disturbing. Before he could speak, though…

 _My uncle passed away from a stroke. I was utterly mistaken if I thought I knew anguish before._

"Ah, you must have grieved because of their deaths. They were dear to you, after all."

 _Those leaving my life terrified me more than it grieved me. What would I do with me, now? Was I supposed to live on my own, alone? The reigns of my life were now in my hands and I didn't have any inkling as to what to do. I'd never known_ the freedom _to make my own decisions, not in the same way as slavery, though._

 _I just didn't know who I was._

 _The anguish was so much that I attempted suicide. I told myself I was doing it because I felt responsible for my wife's death – which was partly true - but the real reason was uncertainty and terror._

 _At that point, 'her' – Cathy's – path crossed with mine. She was breezing past the bridge like a kite when she saw me drowning. Naturally, she saved me. It was what anyone would do. She, however, wasn't just anyone. The girl made a real effort to bring me back to life, to an actual life. She took me to her home and nursed me with all she had. In the beginning, she enraged me very much. She taunted me all the time, saying that I owed my life to her or that I should think fast about returning her debt. She made me so mad. I could've told her she didn't have to save me. I didn't…because fighting in so many battles had made me realize how valuable the gift of life was._

 _She also taunted me about my not so noble intentions as I lived and ate with her. She wanted to get a rise out of me all the time. For as mad as she made me, living with her was better than being alone. The thought of living on my own scared me so much. I didn't want to drown in that sea of despondency again. I wouldn't be able to resurface this time. As I accompanied her to the Speakeasy every night, mostly to get drunk, I started observing the little things about her. She was so kind…she intently listened to every insignificant detail of a customer's life. Her smile could light up anyone's day. The littlest thing she did…she did it with such vigour that I could only stare. I'd never seen anyone wipe the glasses clean with such indulgence._

 _Slowly, her fire was kindling me._

 _I was a bit sad, though. I wanted her to see me in a different light, similar to the way she perceived Sam. It made me miserable to realize that I was another venture of benevolence._

 _Why would I feel that, I didn't know? My reactions were giving me a whiplash._

"What importance does this Sam hold in her life, Edward?"

 _He is her lover. I haven't met him, but I loathe him._

 _She had an absurd impression that I came to the bar to amuse myself, to distract myself from the trauma that I had suffered. My condition was such that even if I wanted to, I couldn't look away from her. It was physically impossible. Like I said, I never knew I was capable of such insane reactions. In the course of time, I was proud that I had acquired a special place in her life. She called me her 'friend'._

 _The friend in question was now blushing under my stare. A glorious, rosy color._

 _I was doomed._

" _I'm earnestly asking," she says, wanting to distract me from her shyness, "Why aren't you drinking these days?"_

 _I swallow, saying, "Damn it, this lady. Firstly she gives me hell over drinking. Then she is giving me hell over not drinking."_

" _I'm not giving you hell," She snaps. Her easily enraged attitude reminds me of a snarling kitten, soft and harmless, "Straightforwardly, just say that you don't want to tell me."_

 _I laugh._

 _I can't help it; her fuming face is too comical. She turns scarlet again. The next action I perform is not my fault. The night is settling in, harmony is reverberating through the area. She's consuming me. I gently enfold her hand in mine – they were resting on the counter – and murmur, "Only fools drink before Goddesses."_

 _A giggle, "A Goddess in flappers?"_

" _They make you all the more…beautiful."_

 _My words aren't appropriate, but they don't feel wrong. I'm speaking the truth. Lack of glitter and powder don't mar her loveliness one bit._

 _She is staring down at our clasped hands. Blood is slowly pooling over her throat. I lick my lips and lean forward, knowing she's feeling shy. Gently tipping her chin towards me, I say, "You look so tired. You should rest during the daytime."_

" _I can't," her voice is no louder than a whisper, "I need to be with Sam."_

 _I grit my teeth, not wanting to ruin the moment by the mention of her foolish Sam. Didn't he see her weary eyes? "If I were in his place I'd care for you so much."_

 _She laughs; it sounds shaky, "But you're not."_

 _She has averted her eyes from me once again. That's unacceptable. "Cathy…" I command quietly, "Look at me."_

 _Her gaze meets mine, locking onto me, making me her prisoner. I'm still waiting for the day when I'll sway back and forth, like a snake in a basket, because of her gaze. The effect is profound. I grit my teeth, willing myself to focus._

" _I can be," I answer her. I'm lost. Only she exists. The speakeasy, the people, the music…everything, has vanished._

 _She gasps, "But?" As if there is more to my statement. I lean in, breathing in her scent. Before I do something that can change our lives forever, a piercing voice interrupts our symphony from behind._

" _Cathy?"_

 _She jumps as if a bucket of cold water has been dowsed over her. "Yes, Jessica?" she asks, struggling to let go of her hands from my grip. I leave her reluctantly, cursing this Jessica to hell._

 _Jessica pleads her to shift duties. On demanding the reason, she says with a giggle, that she wants to seduce Seth, the young man who works beside Cathy. Cathy agrees, looking wary for no apparent reason, and comes out from behind the bar. I grab her coat from the stool before she can and envelope it around her. Since Jessica's duty has already ended, we're heading home._

 _We manage to steal two bottles of beer before leaving. The cool breeze washes over our faces as we head down the street. I notice her vaguely glancing towards the late night, 'Why Change Your Wife'. I don't want the night to end, so I ask her if she wants to go._

 _She refuses._

" _What are you thinking?" Something is remiss with her. I have a feeling I'll have to coax the answer out of her._

 _She surprises me by answering. "Love is piss."_

 _I'm taken aback._

" _Why do you say that?" I shouldn't be surprised, though. She's been this way ever since I'd met her. Her family was torn apart because her father was abusive. He's beaten her mother and herself for years. After his death, her mother had gone from affair to affair in search for companionship. Being a true rebel, Cathy had left her home at a tender age to live on her own terms. I'm curious as to why she is hurling an oath towards love at present._

" _Jessica is a hooker." She begins in her sailor's tongue, "She should know that having aspirations of a lady doesn't really suit her. Hell, my mom was a lady._ _ **If she**_ _couldn't find a companion for life then what chance does Jessica have?"_

 _I frown, "Why? Many men want her."_

 _She shakes her head impatiently, "That's the problem. They just want her, nothing else."_

 _I think about what she's said. Men want her, but not in the way I want Cathy. They want Jessica to fulfill their desires. I want Cathy's smiles, anger, tears, excitement…everything. I want to be the one who looks at her when the first rays of sunshine hit her face in the morning. I want to be her last thought before she drifts off to her dream realm. More than wanting all of that, I want to share her heartbreaks, happiness, fears and laughs._

 _For now though, it's just a maddening fantasy._

 _From the faraway look in her eyes, I suspect that something is amiss with her and Sam. I indulge myself in rubbing her back. She curls a little into me, sighing. "That's not true, Cathy." I murmur, "I cared for Lisa, as Lisa did for me." I want to show her that not all were selfish. I went to the war for her. That ought to count for something. But my words have opposite effect, as Cathy's face is suddenly livid._

" _It's still not worth it," her voice is hard, cynical, "After all, she died in the end." I cringe and leave her immediately. There is an enormous lump in my throat. I know Cathy's point is something else entirely; she wants me to know that love leads nowhere, but I am attuned to the feeling of guilt that comes with the mention of her death. I'm guilty for another reason today, though. I think – and it's horrible of me to think this way – that Lisa was fated, sure to die. If she hadn't, I wouldn't have met Cathy._

 _Cathy is apologizing, the absurd girl that she is. "Please forgive me, I didn't mean it. I swear." I knew exactly what she meant; she just didn't know what I was thinking. If she knew, she would've cursed me to my grave._

" _I know, dear," I say curtly, my selfish thoughts leaving a bitter taste in my mouth, "Let's hurry home. It's getting cold."_

" _But –"I've already started walking away from her, leaving her alone in the drizzle._

~o~

Suddenly, Edward goes silent, not elaborating on what happened next. Carlisle took it as a hint to ask him to move on.

"Move on to the next significant event of that life."

 _She is properly tucked beneath the quilt, snoring peacefully. The moon is full tonight; its silver light is making Cathy look like an angel in slumber. This makes me smile. I enter her room with the stand and the canvas, careful to make no sound. As I place it directly in front of her, I notice that she is drooling. She claims that she's never drooled and I chuckle. She wouldn't ever believe me if I told her. The point was moot; as she would kick me out of her house if she knew I paid her a visit every night as she slept. Her chest rises and falls, taunting me. I lick my lips, not looking away. I'm aware I'll go to hell so I might as well do it thoroughly._

 _My uncle had always insisted upon proper training. He'd instilled in me the habit of learning from an early age, saying that learning would ensure me a proper way of living. I shouldn't ever balk about learning techniques, he said, as it would make me more skilled. I'd agreed with him because moments such as this didn't have a chance of occurring before my eyes. Cathy, in all her vulnerable glory, sleeping in front of me…her hair tangled like seaweed, her lips mumbling incidents from her dream world…The sight alone slashed me open, every time. Being a helpless witness to this loveliness, I didn't want learning, or dignity or respectability. I wanted this strange music; I wanted dawn and the feel of her cheek against mine._

 _Morals be damned, she was slowly destroying me._

 _I've been trying to capture this perfection for a while now. I know it's impossible to emulate her vulnerable, sleeping form over a blank, dull canvas. It wouldn't do her justice. But there's no stopping now. I go half-mad, angrily stroking my brush where her hair is going to be. She is just so tempting._

 _Painting her is a religious experience._

 _A ritual._

 _I still have to paint her body, her lips and her closed lids. My imagination is going to run wild. I'll need a lot of strength. I have so little time with her. She'll wake up shortly; to go meet that idiot Sam. He'll propose to her on one knee soon. Who wouldn't? She'll never know the depth of my feelings towards her. She says I can stay for as long as I want, but she doesn't know what she rambles about. I can't stay with her if she marries Sam. The thought alone rips me. We don't know the future, but I'm sure it's going to be a tragic one for me. All I have is this moment, and I want to focus on her. The time stops as I delicately curve the brush stroke to make her lids. The world seems perfect. For now._

 _I paint on as she continues to dream._

 _~o~_

On being asked to move to the next significant event, tears start oozing from the corner of Edward's eyes. He started gasping, his trembling lips whispering 'no' over and over.

"Why do you look so disturbed? What is happening?" Carlisle asks urgently.

 _The…letter…_

"What letter?"

 _Her letter…I'm…reading it…_

"She has left you a letter?"

 _Yes._

"Has she married Sam?" he asks quietly.

A moan,

 _No, she's killed herself. It's a suicide letter! I have fallen to my knees. I can't...I can't breathe. My heart has been ripped from my chest. I can't believe it. She's left me…too._

"Read the letter," he commanded his client, "Why did she kill herself?"

 _I can't...I can't see clearly…_

"That's all right," he placated, seeing his distress, "Can you tell me the gist of it?"

 _Sam had left her, accusing her of promiscuousness. Because I lived with her, that's why. All her doubts about love had been confirmed. I thought she was strong! She'd taken everything that had been thrown at her. She'd faced every obstacle like a lioness. After everything, heartbreak managed to kill her! I know how it feels…my heart won't be able to survive this._

 _She's gone…forever._

 _Ten days has passed._

 _In her letter, she'd requested to throw her body over my shoulders and toss it into the pit above the earth. She didn't want ceremonies or even a coffin. She wanted to merge with the earth. Her words were, 'the sky would be above me, the earth below me and fire within me'._

 _I do exactly that._

 _It physically hurt me to throw her body in that six-foot deep hole, but I gritted my teeth and braved it. Until the very end, I wanted to show her that love was selfless. If this was what that selfish girl wanted, who was I to deny? I cursed her a lot on the day of her burial. I called her a witch, a demon. I did everything to mask my pain. I was so afraid to express it because no one in the world would comfort me. I had no one whom I could call mine. More than that, if I cried, I wouldn't stop. I knew I wouldn't ever stop._

 _But I gave in._

 _I surrendered._

 _I wanted to show her till the very end that love was surrender. I loved that girl. I loved her till the stars and back. I cried over that piece of earth under which she was buried. It was a rainy day…a black day. That day made her death all the more real…because no one answered my questions._

" _Who gave you the permission to steal my heart!?" Raindrops were thick. They battered against the ground._

 _No answer came._

 _I gripped the damp earth, fisting the gravel. "You think I can't live without you? You think you know everything? I'll show you…by God I'll show you…"_

" _I love you!" I howled._

 _The universe was laughing at me now I was sure. It was too late for these words. They got mingled with the rain. Meaningless and useless. She'd already departed to some other place._

 _No one answered me that night. Occasionally, the clouds sniggered._

Humans were known for making things complicated. For as advanced as they claimed to be, they couldn't grasp a simple concept; where there was no trust, there was no love. They held on to a meaningless relationship because their heart was too afraid to live on its own. It did take time to build trust; it couldn't be accomplished in a matter of minutes or even years. Love did hurt, but for good reasons. It was never malicious.

 _Unless it is a mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it is a waste of time. There are too many things mediocre in life. Love should not be one of them…_ Carlisle's mom used to say. On being accused of idealism, she always replied, _so what? Idealism is not a state of mind. It's a way of life._

Edward's best friend had committed suicide because her man didn't trust her. More importantly, she didn't trust herself. Words never held the power to pierce a heart until that heart believed those words, even if only one percent. She didn't trust herself to be able to fight the onslaught of anguish. Carlisle suspected she already had an inkling that she wasn't worthy of love. The break up confirmed that suspicion.

However, he wasn't about to psychoanalyze the unknown heroin from Edward's past life. He had to focus on his client, his problem of lack of passion and feeling like a pushover. It was now evident that this problem had stemmed from a hundred years ago.

Edward was…guilty.

The he always felt answerable to people on his decisions was because in his past life, they had in some way, forced him or left him. The trauma was too great. The habit of listening to Lisa and his uncle had continued to the present day. Those people had taken the form of his mother and father. Some situations presented itself from the past life over and over, as some kind of test. The same had happened to Edward.

Conversely, Elizabeth and Anthony hadn't posed as many problems as they had in his past life. However, they _had_ undoubtedly shaped Edward's guilty behaviour, but the main obstacle was a tad bit different. What should he do if he had the reigns of his own life? This time, there was no Cathy. Maybe the answer was hidden in his vision; that was up to Edward to decide. Carlisle had taken Edward to the _place_ where the answer lied. Now it was up to Edward on _what_ to look at.

As for the girl, he couldn't quite understand the meaning of her presence. People usually saw those who were extremely significant or who'd had an impact, however little, in the present life. Souls knew each other. They didn't need body or face to recognize each other. This was evident in the regression sessions. The mother from the present life could be a brother from the past one. The sister from the present life could be a lover from the past one. Clients recognized them all the time. When Carlisle ordered the patients to look deeply into the person's eyes, they identified who they were. Eyes were truly windows to the soul. Edward, on the other hand, had made it clear he didn't know who the girl was. He'd never seen her in any form in his present life.

Things were getting mysterious.

Carlisle had a feeling something big was about to happen…soon.

On being asked about the condition of his life after the girl's death, Edward's reply was,

 _People are like candles. At any moment, a breeze can blow them out, so people should enjoy the light while they have it._

 _Life goes on. I paint for a living. Yes, I paint for living, laughing, anguish, torment, and for passion. The fire that she gifted me – is the most priceless gift I'd ever received – and it will never die._

 _I'll keep it alive._

 _I'll take it to my grave._

 _In a year's time, she's given me the meaning of life. Life is about being notorious. Life is not drawn on some map. People often associate 'destiny' and 'journey' with life. They think, 'oh, here's my home. Now I'm leaving. I'm walking an unknown way. I don't know what my destiny is.' That's not how it works. For when you start walking, the way appears. Life is taking a step without feet. There are no rights or wrongs._

 _I've realized that in creating myself, I'll find myself._

 _I die a natural death as an old man. As I'm drifting, I can't help but wonder if I will carry that fire beyond my grave._

These words, so wise, were unlike the lost Edward's words Carlisle had heard when he first came into the office. Carlisle wanted to know what the sudden death of the girl meant. Some message was still not encoded. He was curious to see if the girl would appear again in another past life, in another time.

He scheduled one more session with Edward. His problem may not be a result of one life. As Edward left with watery eyes, shaken to the core, Carlisle felt a sense of foreboding. The room felt cold. The faint growls of thunder were clearly overheard, in the calm before the tempest.

A storm was coming.

Edward needed to hold tight.


End file.
